


banana split

by heibai



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Man i love DoTa, inspired by the stretching segment in nct life paju, winwin as a wushu instructor is what my dreams are made of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 12:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heibai/pseuds/heibai
Summary: Sicheng is a wushu instructor and Yuta is an inactive couch potato who got dragged involuntarily into the sunlight.





	banana split

The very last way Yuta wanted to spend the afternoon of a nice Saturday is through exercising. Yet alone finding himself being slightly humiliated in front of a bunch of enthusiastic school aged children when he could not bend down far enough to connect his trembling fingertips with his expecting toe.

 

“Damn you Dongyoung, damn you Dongyoung, _damn you Dongyoung_.” It was unfortunate how the situation he found himself trapped in caused his inability to swear the life out of his ””””friend””””, opting for a much safer _‘damn’_ instead. Anything more severe has to wait until both of them were back within the confines of their apartment, with locked doors between them and any escape attempts.

 

He promised Yuta that this _wushu_ thing would be for all ages. All ages my ass. Not only was Yuta the tallest person even when he was sitting on the ground (of course, for another round of _stretching_ ), he sure as hell looked older than even most of the instructors, who were spread out around the repurposed tennis court to help those little kids achieve a perfect split.

 

Yuta wondered why he even bothered to try this hard in the first place. His face contorted in pure concentration and pain as little by little he fed the weight of his upper body onto his spread leg. Hoping that somehow, the resistance would give away and he could finally laugh back at Dongyoung’s face for daring to call him a _‘rusted doorknob’_.

 

But he should’ve know that sometimes, pure determination won’t take him anywhere. By the time they finished one set and he had to switch it up so that it was now his left leg’s turn to be tortured, there was still more than 15 centimeters gap between his crotch and the patiently waiting ground. It was not going anywhere anytime soon. It was just waiting for Yuta to be at least just a little bit more… flexible.

 

He looked like he just slipped on a banana peel more so than an attempt at doing the _split._

 

“Take it easy.”

 

You never knew how much you needed something until it was taken away from you. In this case, the _‘thing’_ is Yuta’s ego. And the one who took it was one of the instructor who finally caught sight of this pitiful man and decided to put him out of his misery.

 

Not caring that the _‘floor’_ portion of the stretching has just come to an end,

 

_(Oh god there’s more?!)_

 

Yuta collapsed to the ground in mangled limbs. Arms thrown all about and legs folded over each other as he tried to finally, finally catch a good, liberating, deep breath.

 

“First time?”

 

With the clear sky acting as a backlight, Yuta couldn’t get a good look of the figure looming over him. Aside from the fact that the person was a man (a boy, to be very honest). A tall, thin, lanky, slender, /insert all synonyms for slim here/ boy.

 

Yuta’s answer came in a wheeze, as if his lungs were merely a pair of deflated balloons who couldn’t be bothered to inflate no more.

 

“Yeah…”

 

The young instructor reached out his hand to help him up and Yuta grabbed it without hesitation. The quick snap of gravity change as he was pulled to his feet surprised him. Yuta was by no means _heavy_ , most people would even call him slightly on the thinner side, but he was surprised at how easy the boy managed to carry his weight up like it was not a big problem at all.

 

_That’s what you get if you take care of your body, stupid._

 

“Why don’t you go to the adult class?” The weird accent that he has, combined with his looks, now clearly visible as they were walking side by side to the outer fences, told Yuta that he was not a native. Resourcing people who really knows the deal. Well, at least that meant Dongyoung chose a good club to join.

 

“My friend wants to keep his little brother company. I was just dragged along,” he pointed at Dongyoung, all smiles and sunshine Dongyoung talking with his little brother and at least two other kids with one of his leg propped up against the metal bar on the fences. Realizing the implication of his sight, Yuta could feel the colour of his face quickly disappearing, “I have to do that too…?”

 

The boy _(man? He looks far more older now that Yuta could see his face clearly)_ let out a soft laugh at Yuta’s undeniable fear and unwillingness, “just do it up to here.”

 

He pointed at a spot on the metal fence at around the height of Yuta’s waist. Not bad, right? Not bad at all. Of course he could do it, of course he could do it he wasn’t _that_ bad,-

 

Yuta almost lost his balance trying to get his feet up to a ninety degree angle. _Ninety degrees_. Some of the kids had their feet up to a whopping hundred and sixty degrees and Yuta was terribly, terribly ashamed.

 

It was just thanks to the instructor’s quick reflexes that he didn’t become another laughing stock for the kids. He felt this urge to scream out _‘I AM HERE TO MAKE YOU ALL FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOURSELF’_ , and probably storm off the court, Dongyoung and his not ‘wanting to feel lost and alone’ be damned.

 

The only thing preventing him from doing so was, well, his leg stuck in one of the holes of the fence, and the instructor, who has both of his hands on Yuta’s body, on one place and another.

 

The one on his shoulder, balancing him, made Yuta think that _‘maybe this is not that bad after all.’_ But the one on his thigh, pushing it down so that his leg was straight, caused him to beg for forgiveness to all existing gods and goddesses that could be hiding somewhere out there.

 

“Will you _please_ stop doing that.” He wanted to add _‘everyone else has stopped doing whatever the hell it is I’m doing’_ , but when he could hear himself sounding more like a squashed mouse’s than a human being, it caused him to shut his mouth up real quick.

 

Well, there was also the fact that his young instructor was letting out one of those utterly cute laughter of his. _(And somehow he thought, if it means I have to be in pain for me to hear that sound, I’m willing.)_

 

In the middle of his ears ringing and the loud pounding of blood in his head, he heard the boy answering to the name _‘Sicheng’_.

 

“Sicheng! Go help out with the beginner’s group, ok?”

 

And with just one easy lift and drop of his right leg in courtesy of this _Sicheng_ boy (man?), Yuta was no longer in risk of ripping his crotch in half. That area of his body just experienced more torture in 20 minutes than the 22 years he’d walk this earth.

 

“Seems like you’re stuck with me.” With his face taking a very unappetising colour of tomato red, wait no, even worse, aubergine purple, Yuta was in no place to lay down his _‘flirty’_ card. And even if he couldn’t help his shamelessness from showing through, the boy/man conundrum was still going strong in his head and he could’ve run the risk of flirting with a fifteen years old kid.

 

But he looked too good in those black, fitted, high-collared instructor uniform that Yuta just didn’t care that much for the numbery risk. Besides, nobody would ever trust a teenager to lead a whole group of other people’s children... right?

 

Sicheng only smiled at that attempt of flirting and gave Yuta a few _sorry_ pats on his back before jogging his merry way to the congregation of children at the center of the court.

 

“Yo Tako-chan! how’s it?”

 

He really did not want to hear Dongyoung’s voice at that moment, he really, really did not want to. “How’s it…- how do YOU think it is?!”

 

“Hellish?” Dongyoung only shrugged at Yuta’s minor outburst, a mischievous grin on his face. Easy for him to say. Dongyoung might look like a senior citizen with his boney frame and grey hair, but he would’ve put the youthful-looking Yuta to shame in the physical prowess front. “Come, the technical class is starting. I’m _sure_ you’ll enjoy this one even more.”

 

To that and Dongyoung’s pulling him excitedly towards the very obvious beginner’s corner, what with the assortment of kids with mismatched casual sports attire (while the kids in the intermediate and advanced corners all have matching deep blue uniforms), Yuta could only shake his head and whine like an upset three years old.

 

But then he sensed someone looking at him and heard a faint stifled laughter carried by the wind. Wafting through the air together with the smell of sun and perspiration.

 

 _Sicheng_ was looking at him and was laughing at him, again, and all he could do was bury his face on Dongyoung’s nasty, sweat drenched shirt. Yuta didn’t care all that much though, he didn’t care much at all.

 

 

_ _ _ _ _

 

 

“I’ve busted my balls, I’ve busted my baaaaaalls.”

 

Yuta couldn’t believe it was his second week finding himself stuck in embarrassment land. Sometimes he felt like shaking the soul out of Dongyoung’s little brother for ever acting so cowardly that he needed the presence of his older brother to ease his nerves in strange situations. The same also applies for Dongyoung. For being so cowardly that he needed _Yuta_ to ease his nerves in strange situations.

 

And now he was rolling on the ground, both hands grabbing at his poor, poor groin, groaning out like a wounded crybaby.

 

By that point he was way past the point of maintaining his public decency, but he truly didn’t care.

 

“Yuta-san, please tone it down.”

 

Not even his Sicheng could make him stop from throwing his childish tantrum. (His? Since when did the very patient, very accommodating-to-everyone instructor became _his_?)

 

“How can you do this?”

 

The kids waiting in line behind him ignored his prone form on the ground and simply took two steps to his left and went on their merry way, copying the simple routine that Sicheng just showed to the group.

 

He was hoping his over-exaggerated display of pain would gain him Sicheng’s full attention. It was his fault anyway, expecting them to be able to emulate his… weird half squat and half… other things. Lunges or all that shit. Yuta didn’t care. He couldn’t even do a straight kick without stumbling and wobbling like he was made out of jelly.

 

“Practice.” Once again he offered his hand to help Yuta up, who spent another five seconds groaning before accepting his fate. Yuta still found it weird that this boy could so easily hoist him back up.

 

“You can do it too if you practice,” Sicheng encouraged him before giving Yuta’s back a soft push, “try doing it again.”

 

He looked at his beginner’s corner and saw at least six pairs of tiny eyes looking back at him (plus one large one courtesy of Dongyoung).

 

“Alone?” He was sure his nervous gulp was audible.

 

“I can do it with you if you want?”

 

It was a nice offer, but Yuta was way more clever than letting his utter shittiness be compared to a pure masterpiece. And thus he declined Sicheng’s offer nicely, “thankyou, but no thankyou, I’ll look like an egg beside you.” The _‘nice’_ aspect was questionable, but he didn’t think that it was gonna be that much of a problem, as he only mumbled the second part (the not nice part) just for himself.

 

He didn’t expect Sicheng to catch it, but he couldn’t lie that he smiled when he heard the now familiar laughter coming from behind him. Yuta was just thankful that his face was already too red for anyone to notice a blush blooming on his cheeks.

 

 

_ _ _ _ _

 

 

Week three now, it was week three.

 

Dongyoung has been teasing him incessantly about his _‘super obvious’_ crush on their teacher and was not afraid to flag down Sicheng and ask him to show them how to do one of those horse riding stance again.

 

“He doesn’t even have an ass.” Yuta would hiss over Dongyoung’s giggles, his face red due to physical exertion and embarrassment, as per usual.

 

“Doesn’t stop you from looking.”

 

_True._

 

Turns out, three weeks was all that Yuta’s body could take before the inevitable happened. It fell apart at the seams. Not only has he turned into a rusted whine machine, moaning to Dongyoung to guide him down the stairs of their apartment, nagging him to help him scratch his back, and even daring to ask him to help sit him down on the toilet ( _‘my thighs are burning, they hurt so much to mooove’ ‘then go burn yourself to death’)_ , but now he has to be content with having two sticks of wood as legs.

 

“Stop whining, it’s just a cramp.” Dongyoung was surely enjoying the sight of Yuta rolling on the ground. It’s became a weekly sight by now. The kids didn’t even bat their eyelashes anymore. They just parted through the two stationary people as if they were boulders in the middle of a running stream.

 

“Is he okay?” A part of Yuta was happy to hear the familiar voice, and he could feel the start of a giddy smile forming on his face. But another part was still occupied with the shooting pain up his left leg that he couldn’t care less.

 

“I don’t know, are you okay?” The grin on Dongyoung’s face was so wide it bled to his voice. He sounded like he could break into gigglish laughter with just one simple push.

 

“I’m _not_ , as you can _see._ ”

 

If the first two time it was Sicheng who offered his help, this time, Yuta was the one that demanded it. “Help me, please?”

 

Of course, being a nice teacher, Sicheng complied. He even was nice enough to slung Yuta’s arm around his shoulder and supported half of his weight as he told him to, “lean on me” and guided the injured crybaby to the side benches.

 

Then Yuta just had to undermine the situation by giving Dongyoung a flash of his blinding grin (a mix of cheeky and pained) before reciprocating the little thumbs up he gave him.

 

Sicheng sat him down on the bleachers and he knelt beside this… hissing and frowning and ‘ohh’ and ‘ahh’-ing drama queen with a knowing smile on his face.

 

“I told you to take it easy.” But the one who spoke those words did _not_ take it easy when Sicheng, without warning or anything in the lines of _‘brace yourself’_ , jabbed his thumbs on Yuta’s left calf and _massaged_ the kink out of his wooden muscle.

 

It was, of course, not appreciated by Yuta. His expression of pain was no longer exaggerated. Because now, those groans and _‘please stop’_ were true to the bone (and the pain, the pain was also through to the bone).

 

“But you told me to practice,” he managed to squeak out in between wheezes of breath.

 

After hearing those genuine words and listening to his genuine cries of pain, Sicheng relented. The tiny shakes of his head were missed because Yuta had just closed his eyes in relief, when Sicheng stopped his _‘massage from hell’_ and diverted his attention to swivelling Yuta’s ankle around.

 

Sicheng was just about to say another thing, probably another word of wisdom to this simple minded mortal, when a kid ran towards him and tapped him on his shoulder.

 

Tiny, tiny kid. Probably only eight years old. The fact that she was running around while brandishing a very big (compared to her body size, that is), very shiny, and very floppy sword didn’t stop Yuta from letting out a quiet _‘oh my god, so adorable’_ coo.

 

“Jiao lian, can you show me the second part of the routine again? I kindda forgot.”

 

Sicheng did a single, double, then triple takes between the little warrior and grownup chicken, his head going back and forth and was that worry in his eyes? Reluctance? Not wanting to do something in front of a potential beau in the fear of embarrassing oneself?

 

“I’ll show you in a bit, ok? Just go back to your friends-,”

 

“It’s fine, I wanna see too.”

 

Yuta loved it everytime he saw a usually composed teacher start to lose their shit. In this case, it was Sicheng’s turn to grow a bit pink on the cheeks. Which he found a bit weird because Sicheng was a teacher and teachers are supposed to be fearless and in the two weeks that Yuta’s been there, he has never hesitated to show off on some unnecessary flourished kicks and turns that were surely not made to be learned by beginners just to hear the kids break off in claps of awe.

 

It took a few nudges and Yuta nodding his head excitedly before Sicheng sighed in defeat and got the sword out of the little warrior’s hand.

 

Yuta gestured for the kid to take a seat beside him for the show was just about to begin. “Don’t they make swords that are... you know, kid sized?”

 

The kid only shrugged off his logical question with an answer that might’ve been too mature for her age range, “at least my parents don’t need to buy me a new one everytime I grow a centimeter.”

 

Yuta wanted to say _‘fair enough’_ , but his breath was stuck in his throat when he saw Sicheng as he started swishing that damn floppy sword around. 

 

_Oh god this is not fair, this is not fair at all._

 

His legs looked so good, and long, and elegant, threading through the mind numbingly complicated movements (at least in Yuta’s eyes it was complicated). Down on the ground, then up for a kick, a twist and a flourish of the sword, his upper body moving as if the sword was an extension of his arm. Sicheng was a piece of fallen autumn leaf and the wind itself was helping him move through the air. Yuta also found it ultra cute that everytime he picks up a leg, it would always be daintily pointed. Just like a deathly lethal ballerina.  _Why does he have to be so elegant when doing everything?_

 

It was such a pity that Sicheng was only showing 15 seconds sizzle reel out of a bigger routine and Yuta itched to beg him to please show me the entirety of everything.

 

_Or just fucking stab me with the sword, just do it._

 

To be very honest, Yuta was doomed from the start because _that_ , ladies and gentlemen, was just merely an entry level routine. If he already wished for his death after seeing that, wait until he saw him do one of those advanced one with those hands-free cartwheels. He’ll be truly deceased then.

 

The show was over when the kid began bombarding him with further question in regards of his mini demonstration. Sicheng only smiled at her and told her that he’ll explain it to everyone later, _so please go back to your group because the technical section was about to start._

 

Not showing favouritism is one thing, but the way he looked at Yuta with that proud grin shining on his face told a different story.

 

“What do you think?”

 

Yuta wanted to play a little bit hard to get. But what the heck, he couldn’t help it. When something is beautiful, you just gotta say it the way it is,

 

“Really beautiful.”

 

Yuta always thought that this silly _crush_ , as Dongyoung would always describe it, is just as simple as that. A crush. He never thought there’ll be a chance for anything more to bloom from a cheesy, one sided attempts of his so called _‘flirtationships’_.

 

But after he saw the change in Sicheng’s smile as he took a seat beside him on the bench, no longer one of amusement and that tiny tinge of pity, but something that bloomed from a deep sense of happiness, he saw it. Yuta saw his chance rising up from the horizon like a morning sun.

 

But then...

 

“TAKO-CHAN OY! The class is starting!”

 

Dongyoung just has to come and ruin everything for him. _As per usual._

 

“Tako… chan?” In between the gaps of his fingers (because he was just so embarrassed he had to hide his cringing face with both of his open hands), Yuta could see that taste of _amusement_ seeping back into Sicheng’s smile.

 

“It’s nothing, no… please forget that you ever hear it oh god,-”

 

But before Yuta could get a firm promise from Sicheng that yes, indeed, he would try to forget that Yuta could be lovingly called in such way, he was already being dragged away from the resting area by Dongyoung. Dongyoung, who fleetingly said his thanks to Sicheng while he blabbered about how _‘you must be as healthy as a horse now after your crush touched your fooooooot (you kinky little shit).’_

 

 

__ _ _ _ __

  


 

“You know that tomorrow is our last day, right?”

 

It was Friday night when Dongyoung broke the news and Yuta was so not ready to hear it. He was even _humming_ , for goodness sake. The first hum in a Friday night for quite some time, as for almost a month now, it was usually filled with the sound of his whining on the topic of how he doesn’t want to go to the wushu _thing_ anymore.

 

“What do you mean _‘last day’_?”

 

Dongyoung looked guilty when he began to explain the agreement he made with the club, “we’re only allowed to be at the children class during my brother’s trial month. After it’s over, well…”

 

He felt kind of irked, and annoyed, and somehow upset (instead of the supposed pure sense of elation after finding out that he doesn’t have to go to embarrassment land anymore after tomorrow) that Dongyoung didn’t lay down this condition to him anytime sooner.

 

In the middle of trying to sort out his jumbled emotion, Yuta told himself that it won’t be the end of the world, surely. He could visit the place time and time again as Dongyoung would still pick up his brother from his family home and drop him to the club every week. So it wasn’t as if he was moving continents. But still...

 

“We can try out the adult class? If you want to do it for any other reason than… you know.”

 

He knows.

 

_But… there’s no guarantee that Sicheng will be there at the adult class, right? Then why should I bother?_

 

Probably to start exercising so you don’t commit the sin of inactivity at such a young age, lazy prick.

 

 

_ _ _ _ _

 

 

Yuta went into his last session feeling determined to ask Sicheng about the adult class, or more accurately, if he will be there (because if he is, then he’ll sign himself up right then and there). But the announcement by the head teacher that because it’s the fourth week of an even month, they’re going to have a physical training day, made Yuta question every single thing that’ve happened in his life to lead him be in this exact moment.

 

And the false assumption that his body has sort of adjusted to the once a week exercise regimen was instantly shattered when he was faced with having to compete with 10 year olds on the dreaded beep test, or as he likes to call it, the fucking _what test?!_

 

Yuta was knocked out from contention on being the most durable person in the beginner’s group when he gave up in the middle of the second round. As comparison, the kid who _‘won’_ the whole thing lasted until the fourth round. But he couldn’t care less. He just took his usual position of lying down on the ground with laboured breath and hoping that his heart would stop beating so violently because he was sure his ribcage will not be able to withstand any additional minutes of this constant abuse.

 

“I thought I’ve seen the last of this shit after graduating high school.”

 

He began his ramble when he sensed someone approached him. In his mind he thought it was Dongyoung. He didn’t count the possibility of it being a little kid before he went on a profanity laden rant about how awful he thought his old high school was on their physical education curriculum and how they never teach them anything more than how to shoot straight to the goalie. To be fair, the person carried to much presence with them to be just another free-spirited little kid.

 

“Seems like you went to a shit school.”

 

Yuta _shot up_ to a seating position when he realized the person actually sitting right beside him. Didn’t need any helping hand this time. Sicheng, of course it was Sicheng. The sheer speed of his movement caused some major disruption in his blood flow, and Yuta could only stare ahead, hoping that he was staring at least at the general vicinity of Sicheng’s face (not at a random spot just slightly to the left of his head), while he waited for the multi colored ants to stop swarming his vision.

 

By the time he could see what was in front of him clearly, around five seconds have passed. And that was five seconds spent looking at Sicheng with a really, really creepy grin on his face.

 

Sicheng didn’t seem to mind though. Instead of looking like he was violated by Yuta’s creepy smile, he looked as if he was waiting for him to say something, which he did right away,

 

“Are you teaching the adult class too?”

 

To his question, Sicheng only shrugged his shoulder. The smile on his lips screamed of unspoken tauntings.

 

At the same moment, the head teacher told everyone to do two sets of sit-ups but the order flew past Yuta’s ears as he was too occupied in his confusion, “what do you mean by…?” he asked while emulating the shrug Sicheng did just then.

 

Sicheng was still silent as he got up to his knees and took his place as Yuta’s watcher, pressing his hand down on his feet and gesturing him to start on the first rep, “go on, do the sit-up first.”

 

He didn’t take Yuta’s protesting groan as a valid response and gave his shoulder a firm push to force him to get going. Yuta, even through the minor abdominal cramp and difficulty of breathing, was surprised by the sudden… switch of demeanor shown by the usually reserved Sicheng.

 

Which was why he just had to stop in the middle of the rep and try to see if he could provoke an even more radical response from him. “Is it a promise or are you just gonna scam me out of it?” he asked (more like, he wheezed).

 

As if Sicheng was only waiting for him to start acting up, he swiftly shifted his position so that now he was _sitting_ on Yuta’s feet, legs circling around his calf to lock them in place. “It’s a promise.” He propped his chin on Yuta’s bent knees and the kid was instantly silenced. His simple smile right then looked like it was saying _‘don’t go around looking for trouble when you’re not ready to face one.’_

 

“…is it 20 more?”

 

“30. Don’t think that you can trick me Yuta-san.”

 

He never knew that two rounds of sit ups can come and go that quickly when the face, _the face_ of Sicheng was staring down at him. It was a combination of giddiness, trying to look tough in front of a crush, and fear. Because he knew Sicheng was not above yelling out at a pupil that acted out one too many times (it happened on week two, when he was teaching the advanced class some routine and two of them wouldn’t stop fooling around with their plastic tipped spears).

 

He was a panting trainwreck by the end of it, but he did it nevertheless. And now while they were waiting for everyone else to finish their round, Yuta could take all the time he want to exert the promise out of Sicheng.

 

“So? Adult class. You. Yes or no?”

 

Sicheng hesitated for a bit before he answered, which was puzzling. Why would he be so adamant over a yes or no question? Yuta didn’t see the point of it all. But when his question was answered with another question, Yuta sort of understand where he was coming from.

 

“Are you going to do it seriously, or are you just going for the heck of it?”

 

 _‘For you, I’m doing it for you,’_ he was screaming inside his head. But his common sense told him to just kept that thought as just that, a thought, if he wanted to pursue this _thing_ he had any further. And so he mulled the words over. Of course he was going to do it seriously. His ego will never allow himself to be satisfied, standing beside this… this _master_ of the arts, if he himself is not _at least_ at the level of an intermediate. At least someone who can do the splits. And to achieve that, he knew that he has to be serious.

 

And also, Yuta wanted to be able to get to his workplace, located on the third floor of a lift-less building, without having to feel like he was dying out of pure exertion. And this. This thing was his best bet yet (because he tried going to the gym, and he only ever went there once before cancelling his membership).

 

“I’m going to do it seriously.”

 

The way Sicheng was looking at him felt like he was searching his eyeballs for any speck of lies. He didn’t want to be lied on. Both for the sake of his club’s good name, and of course, for his own sake. He didn’t want to invest on someone who’ll flake like the flesh of a well-cooked white fish. Besides, even if he didn’t know it, Sicheng saw in Yuta a sliver (however tiny it is, at least it exist) of talent in Chinese martial art. So why waste it?

 

He’ll need a long way of coaxing and convincing, but Sicheng was sure. Once he got his mind around it, he’ll be _great._ Because those legs, honey, _those legs don’t lie._

 

“But I need you to now promise me something in return.”

 

The sight of Sicheng hugging his own knees was enough to send Yuta into a head nodding so violent his hair was bouncing around like a fleece pompom. He was so hopelessly infatuated it was almost embarrassing to watch. But he didn’t care. It made Sicheng smile and that was the most important bit.

 

“Two months. Minimum,” he proposed the promise with a side serving of a handshake, “and after that, then yes, you can.”

 

At first Yuta was sure at what he was walking into. But after hearing the second part of Sicheng’s proposition, his face started to crunch up in confusion, “I can… what?”

 

His confusion led to Sicheng’s confusion and before long those two were drowning in a pool of miscommunication so deep they didn’t realize their hands were still linked through all that. “You can take me out to dinner…”

 

And then just like one of those fox rains that happened in the middle of a sunny day, the cloud in his face parted and a wave of red flush quickly overtook the entirety of his face as Sicheng stuttered to get his point across, “y… you… did ask me that… didn’t you?!”

 

He was living in the moment. Finally, someone other than him was making a fool out of themselves, and this time it was all thanks to a very deliciously coincidental slip of the mind. Yuta revelled on Sicheng’s bewilderment in response to his _‘not yet’_ , that almost disappeared between the laughter and his palm hitting the ground over and over again.

 

After he managed to gather his composure back, and he’d wiped all the laughter induced tears off his eyes, Yuta took Sicheng’s hand from being plastered over his burning cheek, and shook it firmly. As a sign of acceptance for their agreement.

 

“It’s a deal.”

 

That day Yuta discovered another shade of Sicheng’s smile. That shy, shy little crook at the corner of his lips as he nodded his head along with the shaking of Yuta’s hand. He knew it won’t take him long to find every single one of them, and then some. And even if it does take him quite a while to do so, he won’t even mind.

 

“So, will you start tomorrow?”

 

“Won’t you let me have a bit of rest first?”

 

Guessing from the smirk and the little shrug of his shoulder before Sicheng jumped to his feet and walked away to give instructions for the next round of physical endurance activity, Yuta knew the answer for that question.

 

No, no he will _not_.

  


**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted in a oneshot collection because back then i didn't even _think_ that I could commit to write for nct as actively as I'm doing now and thought that a oneshot collection would be the best route for me to take.
> 
> Not anymore tho lolol
> 
> And so, i decided to publish the stories in it as a stand-alone piece so here it is!
> 
> ps: hmu on twitter [@moon__soil](https://twitter.com/moon__soil)


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